


Grow As We Go.

by KHlove065



Series: Sing To Me Instead [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHlove065/pseuds/KHlove065
Summary: Missing scenes from ep 6x01The first few days for Blaine after the season six breakup.





	Grow As We Go.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This fic was inspired by Ben Platt's song "Grow As We Go." This is essentially Blaine's thoughts and emotions after the break up in season six, and it is not meant to paint Kurt in a bad light at all. Like any breakup, there are several sides to both their emotions and they both have valid reasons, I just chose to write it from Blaine's point of view and in turn some things are a little biased towards him (he tends to be pretty dramatic). Y'all I literally wrote this all in one night the other night when I was having trouble sleeping and way too hormonal and emotional for my own good. So no promises that this is actually anything of good quality, but I hope you enjoy it none the less!! As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Blaine rose from the table slowly on weak knees, his head dizzy and throbbing in pain, his heart clenched tightly in an unforgiving iron grip, making it difficult to breathe.

He stared down at the love of his life until the thick stream of tears flowing from his eyes began to blur Kurt’s figure. 

Kurt gazed back at him, his blue eyes wide and brimming with tears of his own. His cold eyes had softened slightly, mixed with something Blaine couldn’t read, something he desperately wanted to interpret as regret, but the harsh words still echoed through the silent air between them, ringing through Blaine’s head, and he knew it couldn’t be. He knew that was just wishful thinking that came from the part of him that would hopelessly belong to Kurt for the rest of his life, the part of him that was in complete denial.

The rest of him was paralyzed in shock at how bluntly Kurt had sprung this upon him, but not in denial.

They had both seen this coming.

It was his worst fear, a realization that had dawned on him a while ago, one he had stifled and smothered and hid away deep down in panic and fear. It was a thought that had been on his mind for the last few weeks, weeks spent in the loft where their relationship held on by a string, unraveling with each fight and miscommunication that was hastily “fixed” by skipping to make up sex and neglecting the most important part: talking.

It was lurking around an inevitable corner, one he was trying everything in his power to avoid turning, and now it was suddenly slammed in his face.

Kurt didn’t love him anymore.

They had been falling and Blaine had been helplessly battling the weights that were pulling them towards destruction, trying to save what they had. But he couldn’t win, not when Kurt had given up.

He needed him. He needed them. He didn’t know who he was without Kurt.

But as it was evidently clear now, clear enough to cut Blaine’s skin, to leave him raw and sore and bleeding: Kurt didn’t need him.

He desperately needed to steady himself, to hold onto something before he collapsed, but the urge to run, to escape, to get as far away from the shattered relationship in front of him, the shambles he was slowly realizing were irreparable this time, won, overwhelming his body with the need to just move.

What hurt him more than hearing Kurt say he didn’t want to marry him was knowing that as soon as he turned to leave, Kurt wouldn’t stop him.

Every part of him wanted to fall into Kurt’s arms, to be held by the man who owned his heart, the boy he had loved with every inch of his being since the day he saw his angelic face on the staircase at Dalton.

Even after Kurt’s words, he didn’t want to leave him. He never wanted to leave him.

He loved him.

It twisted his stomach, made his heart physically ache, made his face scrunch up impossibly tight, because he knew that that love was no longer reciprocated.

Not too long ago, that love was promised to him for the rest of his life with certainty. 

It was his.

Now it was gone, like a dream he remembered so vividly but would never experience in the same capacity again.

They were done.

And so he ran, his tears mixing with the taunting rain, the rain that poured around him as if the world knew, as if it were prepared for this night, the night where his life unexpectedly fell apart.

The sights and sounds around him were unfocused and foreign as he ran, further and further into the uncertainty, away from the love, the peace, and the clarity in his life.

The peace that didn’t exist anymore. The love that no longer wanted him.

Even if he went back, he wouldn’t find that sanctuary. He could beg, he could plead, he could fall to his knees and cry, but the implication behind Kurt’s words rang true and the look on his face that was now hauntingly etched into Blaine’s brain forever told him everything he needed to know.

He could fight to save what they had left, but it would be a lost cause. His life was completely derailed, nothing but chaos now, torn apart by the one person he loved the most.

The thought caught up to his body, hit him with the force of a train- he had to stop. 

Blaine didn’t know what street he was on but it didn’t matter. He leaned against the wall of the nearest building, the sharp brick scraping his back as he sunk to the dirty wet floor, pulling his knees against his chest and hiding his head as he sobbed.

What had he done wrong?

God, how the hell was he supposed to know what he had done wrong? Kurt wouldn’t even talk to him anymore. He had become so distant and remote and Blaine wanted to reach out, to help him, but he had tried, and tried, and tried, and he couldn’t get to him. Kurt wouldn’t let him in and Blaine didn’t know what was going on. It was exhausting and he was so tired, but he was still trying until the last moment because he wanted to make it work so desperately. Kurt was it for him. How could he not be it for Kurt?

If Kurt was unhappy, why didn’t he tell him? Why couldn’t they have talked it out, or at least attempted to work through it together? Why did the best thing in his life have to end so hastily, cast aside without so much as an ounce of effort on Kurt’s part?

He punched the brick wall as a surge of rage coursed through him, crying out in agony and immediately recoiling, grabbing his throbbing hand as white hot sparks of pain shot up his arm.

God, he was so fucking lost. 

He couldn’t go home. He didn’t have a home anymore.

No matter what Kurt did to him, no matter what he thought of Blaine, no matter the fact that they shared the apartment equally, Blaine still loved Kurt too much to force him out of the apartment, to leave him stranded without a home.

Blaine would leave his home, because he wanted Kurt to be safe. Because he loved him.

And because Kurt didn’t love him.

As he sat broken on the street, he clutched the good memories tightly, desperately, the pure unadulterated love he once shared with his beautiful Kurt, shielding it from the tainting drench of the rain, locking it away to keep it safe in the deepest craters of his heart, unsure if he would ever open it again.

He warded off the resentment that threatened to consume him, and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He loved Kurt. He didn’t want to remember what they shared by their last few weeks spent together, by the last words Kurt yelled at him, the words branded into his aching heart.

He let the rain wash everything else away, all the pain, all the hurt, all the arguments. The cold water soaked him several times through, turning him inside out and stripping him bare, leaving him more confused and hopeless than he had ever been in his entire life.

Eventually, Blaine wandered on shaky legs to the nearest hotel, checking in mindlessly, body numb as he made his way to his room.

He collapsed on the bed in his soaking wet clothes. The silence of the room was deafening, crushing him, enveloping him, suffocating him. His shivering body huddled in on itself, alone, missing the weight of Kurt, his warm body, his strong arms, his smell, his touch, his everything.

Everything that he belonged to, and everything that belonged to him.

Everything he would never have again.

Sleep overtook him, but not before Blaine submitted to the defeating thought, the thought that almost made his heart stop beating completely in anguish:

Blaine would go to sleep like this every night for the rest of his life; alone, afraid, and broken-hearted.

Because he would never, ever, love anyone the way he loved Kurt.

And Kurt didn’t want him anymore.

……

The only sound around him as he awoke was the quiet hum of the AC in the hotel room. No soft sighing from Kurt nestled behind him, no humming coming from the kitchen as Kurt cooked them breakfast, no distant sounds of the shower running.

That didn’t exist anymore. Life with Kurt didn’t exist anymore.

The pain wounded him down to his very core.

The sheets around him were wet, his clothes wrinkled and melded to his body. He didn’t have any motivation to get up, to leave the puddle of despair he was sinking further into, other then his increasing thirst.

He rose slowly off the bed, yelping in pain as he remembered his hand, which was now colored a deep shade of purple. His body ached from crying, from running, from laying in such a cramped position for too long.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted the one person who knew him better than anybody else in the entire world, who knew immediately how to ground him and comfort him in only a way he could.

Kurt was the other half of Blaine’s soul, he knew the deepest most intimate parts of Blaine, and Blaine felt severed, completely knocked out of alignment without him.

Broken. Empty.

Unloved, he remembered.

He shuffled drunkenly over to the mirror to take in his disheveled state. His hair was everywhere, wild and unkempt and frizzy in the way Blaine hated but the way Kurt loved. The bags under his eyes were dark and hung low. He looked miserable.

It didn’t even come close to an accurate depiction of how he felt.

God, he looked pathetic- homeless, downcast and unkempt, sorrowful, and Blaine realized with a sob that that’s exactly what he was. Pathetic.

He grabbed a drink of water from the bathroom faucet and fell back down onto the bed, turning himself over to the darkness for a while longer, hoping, praying, pleading, that maybe Kurt’s loving arms would be embracing him when he woke up.

……

He stayed at the hotel for three days, missing class, missing work, and barely eating. 

He didn’t answer his phone. Kurt didn’t call. Blaine didn’t even answer Sam’s call, who he figured was calling him per Kurt’s request. He still knew Kurt like the back of his hand. Kurt would want to make sure he was okay, but his own pride would prevent him from calling Blaine himself.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Finally, the need to have his own stuff became too unbearable. If he didn’t have something to anchor him soon, he would float away completely and do something irrational. He needed to remember who he was, to claim the things that still belonged to him because everything else had been robbed from him, cracking his very foundation.

He didn’t know where he would go after, he only knew that he still had a life here, NYADA and a job that he couldn’t just abandon. It wasn’t a life he wanted to live anymore.

He didn’t have a choice.

He waited to go back to the apartment until he knew Kurt would be gone. Kurt’s workout class at NYADA was every Thursday afternoon, and he wouldn’t be home until at least five.

He felt like an intruder for knowing that. He didn’t deserve to know it anymore. That wasn’t his to worry about, Kurt’s schedule was no longer a part of his own.

His steps felt heavier the closer he got the apartment, to their apartment. A painful lump grew in his throat as he stood outside the door for several minutes, chest heaving and breathing increasing rapidly. He had to collect himself if he wanted to survive the journey that awaited him inside.

Slowly, he unlocked the door, revealing the quiet and immaculately clean loft.

He felt the tears prick his eyes immediately. He was always too messy, not tidy enough for Kurt, and the evidence that Kurt had already fixed that, had already made it better now that he was gone felt like a weight of bricks settling on his chest.

All their photos, all their stuff still sat happily together, mocking him. The apartment looked picturesque, clean and spotless, a state they never achieved living together he realized bitterly.

It was different though, he felt it immediately. The love that had truly made their loft a home, the love that made it warm and safe, was gone.

He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped away the tears.

He didn’t know where to begin, how to even start to untangle everything that was his from Kurt’s. It was a futile act, everything he had belonged to Kurt, everything he owned was a product of their love. They were so completely intertwined together that the thought of separating everything made his head pound with the enormity of it.

He followed where his feet led him first, to the bedroom. He pulled back the curtain.

It was the sight of their bed that tipped him over the edge. He dropped to his knees and began sobbing as he inhaled Kurt’s pillow, the smell of his ex lover, his one true love, his soulmate overwhelming his senses.

Every intimate moment they had ever shared together in their bed ran through his mind, the hours of endless love making, the connecting of their souls when their words failed, always finding a way back to each other. It was the only way they communicated in the end, and every time was as meaningful as the first time, no matter how bittersweet it seemed now.

Kurt had protected him, had loved him and cared for him and pleasured him in a way no one else ever would, in a way that he realized had become such an instrumental part of the person he was, his safety net, his peace, that he felt increasingly panicked as he realized that was being taken away from him.

The smell on Kurt’s pillow was a mixture of his shampoo, his cologne, and his face moisturizer, vanilla and cinnamon and something so undeniably Kurt, strong and masculine and earthy, the smell on every inch of his skin, on every part of his body that Blaine had tasted, something so familiar and comforting that smelling it again shattered his heart further than he thought possible.

He was supposed to live with that smell for the rest of his life, to go to bed every night wrapped in its scent, breathing it in on Kurt’s skin, smelling it on their children, in their home.

He stood, tears still streaming down his face as he pulled open his drawers and changed his clothes.

He grabbed his duffel bag from the closet to start packing his clothes, grabbing an old t shirt out of Kurt’s drawer and sticking it in his bag before he could think too much about it.

He was just about to move to the desk when he heard the front door open.

His hands froze.

“Blaine?” came his melodious voice, and Blaine’s heart soared and dropped at the sound of it.

Kurt’s gorgeous face came around the corner and Blaine’s heart stopped.

It was evident how exhausted Kurt was, his sharp features softened and sorrowful. He was still strikingly handsome, his blue eyes wide and staring at Blaine, miles away from how cold they were the other night.

God, Blaine missed him.

His voice caught in his throat.

“Sorry I,” he mumbled and Kurt stepped closer to him, setting his messenger bag down. “I was just getting my stuff.”

“Blaine,” he said quietly, walking toward him and gently grabbing his bruised hand. He looked up at Blaine earnestly. “Sweetheart, what did you do to your hand?”

Blaine’s heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. The look of concern on Kurt’s face was genuine. Blaine held his gaze, staring into his striking eyes, unable to tell him the truth, to form the words.

“It’s okay,” he replied. He pulled his hand away from Kurt and turned back to his duffel bag. “I’ll just finish grabbing my things and then be out of your way,” he said quietly, sadly, his heart cracking.

He wanted nothing more than to melt into Kurt’s arms, to bury his face into his neck and make it all go away, but he couldn’t forget the words, the truth of their situation.

__Do you even want to marry me? __

__Maybe I don’t! __

“Blaine please,” Kurt breathed. “Let’s talk?”

Blaine felt a surge of anger rush through him. Now Kurt was willing to talk?

“What difference will it make, Kurt?” He asked, turning around to face him, tears in his eyes. “You said it yourself, you don’t want to marry me.”

Kurt closed his eyes and swallowed heavily.

“Blaine,” he tried again. “I don’t want to argue with you,” he pleaded and Blaine hung his head, the tears dripping off his cheeks.

“Blaine, you know this isn’t working,” Kurt choked out and Blaine snapped his head up to look him in the eyes.

“But I’m willing to make it work Kurt! I’m willing to fight for this! You,” he gestured weakly to Kurt, his voice thick. “It feels like you’re just giving up!”

“What, you think this is easy for me?” Kurt snapped back defensively. “You think I want to just throw this away?” His voice softened. “Yes, I will admit, I was harsh the other night, I was blunt and I hurt you and I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, the tears finally falling from his eyes. “But you can’t tell me you haven’t felt us falling apart for weeks now. We’re barely holding on, Blaine. Is it so wrong for me to want to end this before it gets worse?”

Blaine let out a whimper at his words.

“I don’t want this to end Kurt,” he paused, gathering his emotions and ripping himself raw, admitting his desire again to someone who no longer felt the same. “I love you,” he whispered.

Kurt stared at him silently, his brows furrowed.

“Do you seriously think I don’t love you anymore?” he asked, in a voice so small and weak that Blaine had to look up, had to look into his eyes to see for himself what was there.

It was unmistakable. Kurt’s eyes had never been so easy to understand, filled to the brim with pain and love, love so certain and sure that Blaine realized he was completely wrong.

Kurt did still love him.

“You don’t love me enough to want me to stay,” Blaine breathed, no accusation in his statement, more of a question than anything else. It almost hurt worse than Kurt not loving him at all anymore, and it left him confused, disoriented and lost, and so frustrated, so desperate to just fix this mess.

“Don’t you dare say that,” Kurt whimpered. “It’s not that easy and you know it. Blaine you’re not being fair to me, you’re not listening. We’re too young for this, but that doesn’t mean it has to end like this-”

Blaine cut him off.

“No I am listening, Kurt! And you know what I hear? Excuses,” the tears continued to flow heavily. “We’re not too young, you’re just scared. You’re scared of the commitment and the intimacy,” he said.

“That isn’t true,” Kurt stated fiercely. “Maybe we’ll get married someday Blaine, but not like this.”

“Then why the hell did you say yes?” Blaine asked incredulously. “Why did you lead me on for a year?”

“God, Blaine! I don’t know! I didn’t lead you on, I wanted it at the time but things change! We have to look at what’s best for our relationship!”

“And that’s no relationship?” Blaine questioned, angry and hurt, the gap between them unbearably wide, feeling like miles.

Kurt squared his shoulders. “Right now, yes,” he said, his voice quiet but his tone certain. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends,” he offered.

“I don’t want to be friends,” Blaine replied. “I want you, Kurt. I want us. If we can work on being friends, why can’t we work on fixing our relationship?” he was aware his tone was desperate, but he didn’t care. He was losing the battle, unwilling to look at Kurt’s side in an effort to save what he wanted.

He wasn’t willing to compromise because he was so hurt, so confused as to why Kurt wasn’t willing to just try.

“Blaine,” Kurt stuttered out, looking physically pained. “We can’t be in a relationship right now.”

And that was all it took. All it took for every last sliver of hope to sink behind the horizon. It was over.

Blaine grabbed the straps of his duffel bag and walked past Kurt towards the door.

“Where are you even going to go?” Kurt yelled. “Blaine please don’t be a child about this, at least stay here until you find somewhere to live,” he pleaded, his voice following Blaine.

“I’ll figure it out,” he replied, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. He turned around to take in Kurt’s gorgeous figure, the face he loved so much, the reason his heart was breaking so intensely.

The man who was supposed to be his husband.

“You’re it for me, Kurt,” he confessed weakly. “You always have been and for the rest of my life you will be. I know you think we’re too young, that we need to be apart to change, to grow, but I know we could make this work together if you’re willing to try. I love you. I love you with everything that I am. Give me the word, give me the word and I’ll stay,” he begged.

Kurt stared back at him, his mouth trying to find the words, wringing his hands and biting his lip.

“Blaine, I-” he started, but his voice faltered and he looked away, unable to do what Blaine was asking and with a painful stab to the heart, Blaine knew he was no longer wanted.

“Goodbye, Kurt,” Blaine said hoarsely, glancing once more at the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, the man he had given every part of his soul to, the one who would keep so much of him even after he walked through the door.

“I love you,” Kurt cried, tears streaming down his cheeks and Blaine gazed at him, memorized every line of his face, every strand of his hair, ingraining it into his heart before he turned around, and with the weight of everything pressing heavily down on his shoulders, walked out the door.


End file.
